


Playing with fyre

by ineffablebadger



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, Not so much as fic as several tropes hiding in a trench coat and wearing sunglasses, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Seduction, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Tempter Aziraphale (Good Omens), The Night At Crowley's Flat (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablebadger/pseuds/ineffablebadger
Summary: Aziraphale decides that he and Crowley can hardly get into any more trouble than they’re already in and that they may as well enjoy what could be their last night on Earth.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 139





	Playing with fyre

**Author's Note:**

> This is gratuitous smut made entirely to redeem my reputation (I can’t be skill juice cobra girl forever) and as a gift to my fellow Service Top Crowley supremacists. It’s kinda trope heavy but there’s nothing wrong with that, eh? Beta’d by [theycallmeDernhelm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyourleft084/pseuds/theycallmeDernhelm), y’all I’m not worthy. 

Aziraphale gingerly placed his hand on top of Crowley’s as they sat on the bus that would take them back to London for the very first night of the rest of their lives. Crowley raised an eyebrow and glanced down at their intertwined hands, a small smile lighting up his face in response to the physical contact. They sat in comfortable silence for most of the journey, neither wanting to burst the delicate bubble that surrounded them.

This moment was peaceful, intimate, and quiet. It was much the same as the other stolen moments they’d shared together over the centuries, the romantic gestures they could get away with while Heaven and Hell were still paying attention. Somewhere in the Chilterns, Aziraphale rested his weary head on Crowley’s shoulder and closed his eyes, clasping his hand tight as he drifted into a light sleep.

The bus, originally intended for Oxford, eventually pulled up outside Crowley’s building in Mayfair.

“Are you coming in, Angel?”

“Yes, I think I will.”

Crowley balked. How many times had he tried to get Aziraphale to come back to his flat since he’d bought it, just for a drink or a conversation, without a single ulterior motive? Actually, Crowley admitted to himself, there was occasionally an ulterior motive. Regardless, Aziraphale had never accepted his invitation.

They alighted together, both thanking the driver in unison, and made their way up to Crowley’s penthouse. Aziraphale hadn’t actually seen the flat before, but it was pretty much what he imagined it would look like. The interior was cold and barren, with an air of trying entirely too hard. It had a somewhat comforting feeling to Aziraphale, by virtue of being so entirely _Crowley_. He thought it was perfect.

“Fix you a drink?” Crowley offered.

“Yes, a single malt if you have it.”

“If I have it - Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Crowley poured a measure of his finest 1964 Black Bowmore for them both. He’d been saving the bottle for a special occasion, but he supposed there would be few occasions more special than surviving the apocalypse-that-wasn’t.

Aziraphale took the drink, and handled it with customary reverence. He sighed and pulled a singed piece of paper from the breast pocket of his waistcoat.

“The final prophecy of Agnes Nutter!” he ventured.

“Yeah? What do you think it means, Angel?”

“I think it means Heaven and Hell aren’t done with us yet.”

“Bloody Hell.” Crowley complained “You couldn’t let us just relax for a single drink eh?”

“No...No.” Aziraphale replied, apologetically “However, they may well be done with us, and soon. I have a _plan_!”

“Oh?”

“Agnes says we need to choose our faces wisely. I think we should wear each other’s faces, so to speak, when they come for us that is.” Aziraphale’s glance lingered on Crowley’s face, taking in every last detail as if he needed to memorise it to go through with the plan.

“A body swap?”

“A body swap.”

“You know I think that might just be ridiculous enough to work.” Crowley chuckled lightly.

“Quite, and you know what that means? If it works, we’ll be free agents.” Aziraphale beamed excitedly.

“Going to be bloody dangerous though. Hell is no place for an angel.”

“Certainly, I remember that jaunty jig you had to do just to get down the aisle of a church. Heaven will be no picnic for you either, my dear,” Aziraphale chuckled softly, the gentle heat of the whisky coursing through his veins. He also remembered Crowley using a demonic miracle to save his books from the wreckage of the Blitz. In that moment, Aziraphale’s love had threatened to overwhelm him and to condemn them both.

The thought of both of them being extinguished by the ‘fyre’ Agnes mentioned without ever being together was intolerable. The cruelty of the six thousand years Aziraphale had spent living in the shadow of Crowley’s love for him was nothing compared to the torture of the idea that they would never be able to resolve their feelings for one another.

 _Fire_. The gentle dancing light of the fire fell on Crowley in a way that illuminated all the angel’s favourite features. He was all sharp angles and hard edges, maddeningly attractive in whenever corporation or dress he decided upon. Damn him.

Aziraphale finished his glass and swallowed. He supposed that they could hardly get in any more trouble than they were already in with their respective superiors, what with having put a stop to Armageddon and all. What was it Crowley had said? " _If you've got to go, go with style!_ ". Crowley’s amber eyes glowed in the warm light of the fire, and his gaze was fixed on Aziraphale as he happily babbled on about nothing in particular. It suddenly occurred to the angel that he had completely missed the last thing Crowley said.

“My dear...” he began, “Would you kiss me?”

Crowley stopped himself from saying whatever he was about to. Without another word he leaned in and closed the gap between them, planting a chaste kiss on Aziraphale’s lips.

At first the angel’s response was slow and tentative, but the sweet aftertaste of whisky that lingered on the demon’s lips emboldened Aziraphale. There would be no more holding back, not tonight. He pulled Crowley closer, running his fingers through his hair as he deepened the kiss, biting and sucking on his lips hungrily. He began to explore Crowley’s mouth, as if asking permission before taking what he wanted anyway. Aziraphale had never been shy when it came to pleasure, in whatever form that took.

He was gratified at the soft moan that escaped Crowley’s lips as he responded to Aziraphale’s ministrations in kind. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Mm...probably ‘bout as long as I have.”

Aziraphale ran his hands up Crowley’s chest, his fingers lingering on the exposed skin of his open collar as he hooked a leg across Crowley’s lap and sat astride him. He gently trailed kisses down the demon’s neck, pausing and paying more attention whenever he felt Crowley respond beneath him. Crowley’s breath hitched in his throat as Aziraphale sucked at the sensitive points on his neck and began to rock gently backwards and forwards into his crotch.

The angel lifted Crowley’s chin with a finger, and kissed him with a single-minded determination as the world melted around them. Crowley ran his hands up and down Aziraphale’s chest, enjoying the feeling of being able to freely touch what had previously been off limits. Aziraphale applied more weight and started slowly grinding into Crowley’s pelvis, picking up the pace until he felt him begin to harden beneath him. They were a tangle of limbs as their hands and lips explored one another, Crowley arched his back toward the ceiling, moaning in pleasure as Aziraphale rocked against his erection.

“Mm...Zira...What are we…?”

“There seems little point in holding back now, darling. You can have whatever you want of me, Crowley. All of it. All you need to do is take it.” His voice was a low velvety purr that vibrated through the demon.

“Are you trying to tempt me, angel?”

“Not in the metaphysical sense.” Aziraphale smiled coyly, whispering into the shell of Crowley’s ear. “But I dare say you’re rather tempted anyway, aren’t you?”

“Ngk- where did you learn to-?”

“Why don’t I show you?” Aziraphale suggested, pulling Crowley to a standing position by his neck tie and peppering kisses along his jaw, biting gently on the sensitive nape of his neck.

Crowley groaned, completely lost in the theatre of the seduction, attempting to fumble with the fastenings on Aziraphale’s ridiculous velvet waistcoat as they continued kissing. Somehow in all his numerous fantasies, he never imagined the bow tie would ever be this fiddly.

Aziraphale pulled Crowley forward forcefully, crowding him against the wall as he continued to ravage his lips. It appeared the angel was a fan of kissing, or more specifically a fan of kissing him. He loosened his grip on the necktie, instead holding Crowley in place by pressing his weight into him.

Aziraphale ghosted a hand over his erection and nibbled Crowley’s earlobe. “Doesn’t this feel good?” he whispered.

Crowley followed Aziraphale eagerly, gratuitously staring at the angel’s backside as he directed him toward the cavernous study and large throne. Crowley rather thought the angel’s behind was a forbidden fruit more tempting than the apple of Eden.

“Why don’t you start by undoing my dress shirt?” Aziraphale suggested.

“You-” Crowley didn’t exactly know how to finish that sentence, so he stopped himself from saying anything stupid by continuing to kiss Aziraphale and making short work of his shirt, loosening the buttons and pulling it to the floor. If their plan worked, there would be plenty of time to take things slow later. Now was not that time. Aziraphale shivered, suddenly exposed in the cool air of Crowley’s flat.

Undeterred, he pulled Crowley forward and sat down in the throne chair, sinking into the plush velvet. The demon was leaning over him now, running his hands up his thighs and whispering sweet nothings about how much he wanted Aziraphale. How much he’d always wanted him.

“Show me darling. Show me how much you want me.”

“Fuck ‘Ziraphale.”

“Hopefully.”

Crowley keened and leaned over, gently kissing all the way down Aziraphale’s chest. He tweaked his nipples between his fingers as he went, the nubs hardening at the attention. The angel moaned and arched his back, pushing his groin into Crowley’s face as he lingered at his waistband.

“What are you waiting for dear? I already told you, whatever you wa-” His words were cut off as Crowley returned to continue kissing hungrily at his lips, trying in some small way to make up for six thousand years of lost time. As he did, his hands made light work of Aziraphale’s belt.

He ran his hands over the outline of Aziraphale’s cock, feeling it harden at his touch as the angel moaned into his mouth. Crowley worked his down Aziraphale's body again, leaving a frantic trail of light kisses as he went, eventually settling his eyes at his waistband. He hooked his fingers into the soft fabric, pulling down Aziraphale’s trousers and underwear in one movement, freeing his erection.

“D-Do it Crowley. Please blow me.” Aziraphale was barely able to get the words out, his voice now hoarse with lust, but a jolt went straight through Crowley to his pelvis. He ought to have known that the angel would be demanding in the bedroom, but the dirty talk was an unexpected yet pleasant surprise.

Crowley got down on his knees, and ran his hands up Aziraphale’s exposed thighs as he bent forward. He worked Aziraphale’s shaft with one hand as he took the tip in his mouth, circling around the head with snake-like tongue movements. Aziraphale bucked underneath him, moaning out in pleasure, and pushing his length into Crowley’s mouth. The demon obliged, slowly easing Aziraphale’s entire cock into him, working his tongue around the shaft as he sucked. He moved his head back, licking the sensitive underside of Aziraphale’s cock in long, languid strokes before taking all of him back into his mouth.

“Oh...oh God Crowley you feel so good,” Aziraphale writhed underneath him, arching his hips into Crowley’s mouth and gently fucking his face from beneath. He gripped the arms of the throne, breathing heavily as he took in the deliciously debauched image of Crowley - his Crowley - enthusiastically sucking his dick. Crowley looked up, watching his angel writhe with pleasure as he sat on his throne. The demon resolved to always worship Aziraphale in this most base way, to give everything of himself, whatever he wanted and more.

“Crow-ley dear if you...don’t stop...I…” Aziraphale panted, gently guiding Crowley's head away with his hand. Crowley got the message and released Aziraphale’s erection, leaning back his legs with a smug grin on his face.

Crowley stood up and pulled Aziraphale close, capturing him in a kiss. He broke away only briefly to discard his jacket and pull his t-shirt over his head. The tie remained in place. Aziraphale gazed at the demon’s bare chest hungrily, committing the picture to memory, savouring it in a way not dissimilar to the way he would savour a bottle of vintage red.

He hooked a hand into Crowley’s tie and pulled him toward him, a maneuver that was better in theory than it was in practise, as Crowley was knocked off balance and collapsed in a heap on top of Aziraphale in the chair.

“Sorry my dear.” Aziraphale chuckled lightly.

Crowley stood up and discarded the tie, launching it to the other side of the room, his eyes dark with lust. “What-cha sorry for?”

Aziraphale shuffled out of the trousers that were pooled around his ankles. “I think you’d ought to get rid of yours, too.”

Crowley obliged, clumsily fiddling with his belt in his haste until they were both completely naked and the demon had released his erection from the painful confines of his trousers. He turned toward Aziraphale and kissed him, slowly moving his hand up and down the angel’s shaft as he did. Aziraphale guided Crowley’s hand towards his backside, his strength surprising the demon.

Crowley took his time, and savoured every moment, running his hands over Aziraphale’s ass and grasping at the supple flesh there as he continued working his erection with his spare hand. Aziraphale reached round and took Crowley’s cock in his hand, working the length until they were both writhing and incoherent, finding a rhythm that bought them both to panting.

Aziraphale pulled his hand away, causing Crowley to whimper at the loss of contact, and he gazed into his lover’s eyes. “Bedroom,” He commanded.

Once on Crowley’s bed, Aziraphale stretched himself out, luxuriating in the feeling of Crowley’s silk sheets on his skin and gazing at the demon hungrily as he reached into his nightstand for a small bottle of lube. Aziraphale spread out his legs, exposing himself to Crowley, as the he coated a couple of fingers in the liquid. He tentatively slipped the tip of a finger inside of Aziraphale, and the angel gasped in pleasure at the contact.

“More. Please.”

Crowley was gentle, easing each finger in slowly, causing Aziraphale to squirm underneath him and rub his erection into the mattress to create some friction. Once he was sure Aziraphale was comfortable, Crowley began to move his fingers in and out, gently fucking the angel and grasping his own erection with his free hand.

“Aziraphale...”

“For somebody’s sake, fuck me.”

Crowley was all too happy to oblige, never one to deny the whims of his angel. He positioned himself and slowly eased the tip of his penis in, gradually sinking into him. Satan, this felt good. He built up the pace, thrusting into Aziraphale until he was a writhing and incoherent mess underneath him. Before long, Crowley was slamming into him relentlessly, their ethereal bodies making them capable of withstanding much more than their soft human corporations would allow.

They both moaned, Aziraphale far more loudly and dramatically than Crowley. Whether it was performance or pure hedonism, Crowley did not care, it was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard.

Crowley began to feel a tightening knot in his crotch. “Zira...I’m gonna…”

“Do it, cum for me.”

Crowley couldn’t last much longer, and he spent himself inside Aziraphale, thrusting until he felt over-sensitive and needed to withdraw. He caught his breath, and moved down the bed to work Aziraphale with his mouth until the angel came undone, grasping at the sheets and blaspheming as he did.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers, cleaning up the bodily fluids, and folded his clothes in a neat pile beside the bed. He reached an arm around Crowley and snuggled into him as they caught their breaths.

“Well, that was...uh...something.” Crowley ventured.

“It certainly was.”

“Whatever will Heaven think?”

“They already think we’re an item, what about your lot?”

“Are you kidding? Hell would give me a commendation if they find out I corrupted an angel!”

“Darling, as far as I recall, the corrupting was entirely mutual.” Aziraphale smiled and kissed his cheek. “We should rest, in any case, the _fire_ awaits us.”

“That it does.”


End file.
